Mini Cars Caked in Mud

I remember you in squeezing into the house by way of the narrowest little room—

The room with both a bed and a couch,

The room that was a long, pulled rectangle,

And not waiting

Till we

Made it through

To give a scrunch.

 

I remember you in the cawing of the coo-coo clock that I had to look

Straight up to see

And I remember you in the

Scrunch of the kitchen

That smelled of eternal chocolate-chip

 

And skipping rocks in the river—

I was not good, but

I tried—

And finding mini cars

Caked in mud

In the shack that was like a crumpled paper:

Someone aimed for the trashcan

And missed a mile

And left their toy cars

All for me to wash and smile.

 

Ten years,

And though I can’t say

I’ve thought of it much,

When we never heard and

It’s been a month.

And when we found,

My name was not there—

My name was not listed there,

Though I was blood.

 

Though I was

Mini cars caked in mud.